Yesterdays and Tomorrows
by Reichenbach
Summary: Chapter 4 uploaded! Slightly revised history for the BB universe. After certain facts come to life, Terry's life blows apart.
1. Prologue

Title: Yesterdays and Tomorrows  
  
Authors: Tammy Brokaw and Charlene Edwards  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Synopsis: This is an idea I came up with and shared with Tammy and we've been playing with. It's an Alternate universe for Batman Beyond that sits somewhere between regular DC continuity and the established Animated Series' continuity. I LIKE Terry McGinnis as a character. I think he rocks. I like him almost like I like Dick Grayson. BUT what I didn't like was the way DC committed what I consider character assassination of Dick and Tim to bring Terry about. Soooo here's Tammy and my attempt to "fix" what I think DC did wrong. I hope you all like the little world we've put together. –Charlene  
  
Me, I just did this because I'm a ficwhore --Tammy  
  
And so, in honor of Terry McGinnis/Batman Beyond Month on Haven_Corridor here's our BB fic. Enjoy :-) Char & Tammy  
  
  
  
Yesterdays and Tomorrows  
  
Prologue: Gotham, 2002  
  
"I wish Batman could've came with us," Robin said as he and Nightwing crept through the abandoned warehouse. Something felt -- wrong. He couldn't put a finger on it, but it was there, deep in the pit of his stomach. "Or, at least, Batgirl."  
  
Nightwing nodded as he scoped out the warehouse's interior. So far there were no signs of the Joker. But Batman's intel is rarely was wrong. "I know, bro. But he had that function he had to attend. We can handle this." Then his thoughts went to Batgirl. Barbara. No, she couldn't come with them. Not right now. His mouth formed a smile as he thought about her. Thought about their discussion earlier that day. Life could be so… damned good sometimes.  
  
"Yeah, it's just the Joker," Robin grumbled as they went deeper into the warehouse.  
  
Robin's musings, brought Nightwing back to the situation at hand. He shook his head as they continued on.  
  
Passing by stacked up crates, they neared an interior room. Using their night vision lenses in their masks, they surveyed the room's interior. It seemed harmless. Cautiously, they entered. Nightwing and Robin started searching the room for clues.  
  
"There's nothing here," NIghtwing said exasperated.  
  
"Yeah, this is a dead end, "Robin replied as they moved back toward the door.  
  
They froze when they felt the slight shift in the floor beneath them. Their weight had triggered something. It was a trap.  
  
Suddenly, the room was enclosed by steel walls. Nightwing and Robin moved to the wall where the door had been. As they were desperately looking a way out, the Joker's laughter filled the room.  
  
"Ignore him Robin and keep looking for a way out."  
  
His voice echoed and rang out like a grotesque carnival master, enticing the children onward. "Bwahahaha ... Welcome to Uncle Joker's warehouse of fun. This little surprise was intended for the Bat, but I'll take two birds. Bwahahaha -- killing two birds with one bomb you might say. Bwahahaha."  
  
"Bomb?" Robin asked as he turned to face Nightwing.  
  
On the far side of the room a digital display started counting down from sixty. One minute -- sixty seconds. Nightwing's eyes grew wide as the thought of the hopelessness started to sink in. He pressed the emergency signal in his gauntlets, summoning Batman, although he knew there was no way he could get there in time.  
  
"We have to stay calm," Nightwing said as his mind started racing.  
  
FIFTY SECONDS.  
  
"There's no way out!" Robin replied. Nightwing could hear the slight trace of panic there.  
  
FORTY SECONDS.  
  
"Bro, take off your cape."  
  
"What?" Robin asked.  
  
THIRTY SECONDS.  
  
"It's fire retardant. Maybe we can use it as a shield and ride out the explosion. The bombs connected to the timer, so let's get as close to the door as we can."  
  
TWENTY SECONDS.  
  
Robin smiled at Nightwing. It might work. It was a chance. The only one they had. There was part of him that was sick inside, and there was another part that KNEW they'd be all right. How many times had they escaped the jaws of death on just a hunch and their own good looks?  
  
Nightwing pushed Robin close to the door, using his own body to shield the boy and then using the cape as a shield for both of them.  
  
TEN SECONDS.  
  
Jokers' laughter still echoed throughout the chamber. " -- ahaha. By the way, main bomb's by the door."  
  
"Oh shit," Nightwing said as he grabbed Robin's shoulders quickly turning him from the door. Nightwing threw the cape around Robin as he placed himself between the boy and the door.  
  
"Time's up, Boy Blunders," Joker's voice sounded as the room exploded around them.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________ ______________________________________  
  
Batman saw a raging fire as he neared what once was the warehouse. Nightwing's signal had come from here. Their GPS signals stated they were still inside the warehouse. He tried not to panic. He wouldn't panic. There was work to be done. He had to find Robin and Nightwing.  
  
With a steeled determination, he activated the electronic cooling systems in the Bat-suit and he entered the blazing inferno. He had to find them, had to rescue them. Quickly, he moved to their location. He moved past the burning wood and through the blown out steel door. Then he saw them.  
  
Still.  
  
They were lying so still. Nightwing was partially covering Robin.  
  
They were unconscious he told himself. They had to be.  
  
He bent down to check their injuries and move them out of the zone of danger. Batman stiffened when he touched them. When he realized.  
  
Nightwing and Robin were dead.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________ ______________________________________________  
  
  
  
…Continued in Part I 


	2. Accidental Revelations

See Epilogue for required info. Hope you all enjoy!!! Char and Tammy :-)  
  
Note: Pay attention, kiddies, here's where we start going wonky with BB cannon.  
  
* * *  
  
Chapter One: Accidental Revelations  
  
Gotham, 2039  
  
There was the howl of the engines and the rush of the wind on the inside of the vehicle as the Batmobile soared above the city. The red and black hovercar had it's own unique sound on the inside, but from the street, it was nearly silent, and nearly invisible.  
  
"I'm cutting patrol short tonight," Terry announced as he began steering his vehicle up Adams and towards the Batcave.  
  
"You just started," Bruce said dryly from his position in the cave.  
  
"Grandma's coming into town. Family get-together, brew-ha-ha type thing. She's old. She'll go to sleep early and I can dash back out for another round of joy and  
  
funness." You know, like YOU should be doing, Terry added silently.  
  
He stared at the console for a moment, wondering what snide remark the old man would come up with this time. It was almost a game at this point. Terry would be flippant, and the old guy would bust his chops. It let Terry know that there were some things in the universe that were normal.  
  
"And if something happens while you're off having… 'family time'?" Bruce asked. Sometimes he wondered about how serious Terry took this job.  
  
Terry smiled beneath his mask as he turned onto Collfield. He was almost out of down town, and that much closer to the Manor. "You call me out. You don't have any problem doing it any other time."  
  
* * *  
  
Terry's grandmother had already arrived when he got home. She was sitting on the sofa with a cup of coffee in hand. "There's the working boy!" she said, holding out a hand for him to join her in the living room. "Your mother tells me you have a job."  
  
The young man blushed a little. He didn't see Grandma Ann very often any more, but she always seemed so interested in his accomplishments. "It's nothing, Grandma. Gopher job, really." Oh yeah, and there was mortal danger involved. But a lotta gophering too, Terry thought to himself smartly.  
  
"You're mother wouldn't tell me ANYTHING about it. Now sit here and tell me."  
  
Terry smiled, almost proud of himself. "Well, uh… It's a great job. Y'see…"  
  
Matt came bounding into the room and landed on the sofa next to their grandmother, almost hitting her coffee with his leg. Somehow, she anticipated his movement,  
  
and pulled the cup above her head as he landed. That was one of the things Terry always loved about his grandmother-she just couldn't be had. She knew when  
  
they were hiding something, she knew when they'd misbehaved, and she wasn't some frail old lady. She kept going for being a grandma.  
  
"Didja tell her yet?" Matt asked. Why was HE so excited?  
  
"I was TRYING before you decided to use Grandma as a trampoline, Twip." Terry was of the belief that his brother should be put in a cage and not let out until high  
  
school.  
  
"It's something important, if you're all worked up," his grandmother said with a grin on her face.  
  
Matt leaned towards her excitedly, his mop of wild black hair falling across his forehead. "He works for that weird old rich guy, Mr. Wayne." Basically, the little twip just wanted to steal his thunder.  
  
Grandma's face fell, but her blue eyes remained wide open.  
  
Terry instantly began scrambling for words. This wasn't how this was supposed to turn out. "What the Twip is trying to say is…"  
  
She regained some modicum of composure. At least enough to talk. "Terry, if you need money, I'll send it."  
  
"Grandma." That was NOT exactly the response he was anticipating.  
  
Her eyes remained firm, and locked upon his. He forgot just how formidable Grandma Ann could be. "Terry, I mean it. I don't want you working for him."  
  
For a moment, Terry sputtered. He couldn't even comprehend her reaction. "Why? I mean. He's a creepy old guy, but he's ok."  
  
"You wouldn't understand. When your mother gets back, I'm going to have a long talk with her about this." There was an edge of disappointment in her voice, and almost anger.  
  
"I thought you'd be proud of me." Terry had to confess, he was hurt.  
  
"I'm always proud of you. You don't need to be working for… HIM to make me proud of you. I want you to reconsider your actions." She rose and took her coffee cup into the kitchen. Dumping the remainder in the sink, she washed out the cup.  
  
Terry turned on the sofa and followed her with his sight. "Grandma…"  
  
"You've done it now, loser," Matt muttered.  
  
With a sigh, Terry rose to his feet and went to his room. He thought he'd grown up a little. He wasn't hanging with the crowed he used to. He knew how she'd disapproved of those people—Charlie Bigtime and his friends.  
  
Terry had a job. He was now a productive member of society—in more ways than one.  
  
He closed the door and pressed his forehead to the fake wood. Ten minutes later, Batman escaped out of his window.  
  
* * *  
  
Batman flew over the city with excessive speed and sloppy turns, not entirely keeping to his patrol rout.  
  
"She was just like… totally… I don't know, Max. Disenchanted or something. Mad, kinda." Terry talked as he drove. It was the only way he could keep in touch  
  
with his best friend, Max Gibbons, to talk while he drove.  
  
The communications console lit up as she spoke. "So she has a grudge against him for something-real or made up."  
  
"Max, you don't understand. I really care about my grandmother. And I care about what she thinks about me. When I got sent up the river…"  
  
"Juvie is hardly up the river."  
  
"Up the river, I BEGGED mom not to tell her."  
  
"Great. So your grandmother doesn't approve of your after school job. I mean… you can't make everyone happy all the time. Sorry if that sounds harsh, Ter. But it's something you have to live with."  
  
Terry slouched in his seat, making another turn. "I guess. Totally wack, that's all I have to say."  
  
* * *  
  
Day two of Grandma's visit:  
  
First thing mom did upon waking was march into Terry's room and demand to know why her mother had practically ordered her to make Terry quit his job. She  
  
stood in his door way with her hands on her hips wondering what the young man could have done to irritate the older lady so. He'd been doing so much better since  
  
he got that job-keeping strange hours aside.  
  
Terry rolled over in bed to look at her, the sheets twisted around him. Yet again, even on a fine Saturday morning, he could not achieve maximum sleep aptitude.  
  
"Dunno. She just got reaaaal grumpy over it."  
  
Mary scowled at her son. "You better not have gotten smart with her."  
  
"Mom! I didn't do anything this time." This time.  
  
"You better not have. I've already bothered to invite Mr. Wayne over here so your grandmother can see that he's just a nice old man."  
  
"So why'd you bug me?" And accuse me of stuff.  
  
She put her hands on her hips and gave him a slightly perverse smile. "I wanted to make sure I was defending the right person."  
  
Thanks for believing in me, mom.  
  
One hand grabbed the door knob. "Get dressed. He'll be here any minute."  
  
Terry groaned, wondering how anyone could live through the schedule his mother forced him to endure. Wayne had been up later than he had been. He wondered  
  
how the old guy was handling being dragged away from his beauty sleep. Then again, Mr. Wayne was kind of a masochist in some ways. He probably liked the  
  
sleep deprivation.  
  
As his mother closed the door, Terry rolled out of bed and found some clothes. He was a guy, so all of his clothes looked pretty much the same and it was just a  
  
matter of finding something clean. He supposed Wayne deserved to see him in clean clothes.  
  
Dragging himself out of his room, he heard the front door bell ring. Grandma was answering it. Terry had the suspicion she had NO idea who it was.  
  
"I got it, you guys." She pulled the door opened and stopped in mid-motion. "Bruce," she said, the name coming off of her tongue like acid.  
  
"Barbara," he said. Terry didn't know if it was a question or a statement.  
  
Terry took a step forward. "Uh… No, Mr. Wayne. This is my grandmother, ANN…"  
  
He might as well have been talking to a brick wall. The two old people were eye-locked. Terry's mom entered the room, and stopped behind him, staring over his  
  
shoulder at the people in the door way.  
  
His face had gone more gray than usual, Terry thought. It brought out the yellow in his eyes. "I guess now I know why you left town."  
  
"You KNOW why I left town," she replied with venom.  
  
"No. I don't. One day, you were gone." Could it be possible for the old man's voice to get any colder?  
  
"The day after the funeral, I was gone."  
  
Finally, Mary stepped forward. "Uh… I guess you've already met." She gestured for Mr. Wayne to enter. "Please, come in…"  
  
Neither noticed her. "That's why you didn't go with them."  
  
"You're observant."  
  
"And you never told me… BECAUSE?"  
  
Her eyes narrowed. There was some look about her that Terry had never seen before. She'd always been active, but right now she looked like she could jump and attack him right now, and tear him to shreds. Terry didn't like that look at all. "You know why."  
  
Terry wished to hell he understood the subtext of what was going on here.  
  
"I can't believe you'd drag him into this."  
  
"I didn't drag him, he drug me."  
  
She scowled at him, then turned, dashing off to the guest bedroom. Wayne followed her with his eyes, and once she was out of sight, looked back to Terry's mom.  
  
He studied her for a moment. "This was a mistake. I apologize." And he turned, closed the door behind him, and left.  
  
Wack stuff indeed, Terry thought.  
  
"Let me talk to her," Terry and his mother both said at once.  
  
Mary smiled at her son.  
  
"Mom, just give me a minute, ok?"  
  
Mary wasn't really sure it was his place, but there was a cold earnestness in her son's eyes-a maturity she'd not noticed before. She knew she wouldn't be able to  
  
dissuade him. She nodded once, and as fast as that, her son was down the hall.  
  
Terry knocked once, then opened the door without waiting for an answer. "So, uh, you know Mr. Wayne?"  
  
"Yes," she said, still very unhappy. He was sure she'd been crying. "Close the door."  
  
He did so, and came a little closer to where his grandmother sat on the bed.  
  
"I want you to quit that job. BOTH of them."  
  
"Huh?" The response contained equal parts cluelessness and shock.  
  
"Terry, I know what he has you doing."  
  
"Coffee runs and paper filing." Wow, he'd come up with that quip pretty quickly. Maybe he was getting used to the double-life stuff.  
  
She looked out the window, focusing her attention on the dark amethyst colored sky. "And picking up the dry-cleaning and doing Dark Knight avenging. I take it your mother doesn't know."  
  
"What?" Be cool, Terrance. Don't wet yourself.  
  
She sighed, looking very old and tired suddenly. "PLEASE don't play stupid with me. I know Bruce's past. He's going to get you killed."  
  
"Hey," he said with mock-defensiveness, trying to diffuse the situation, "If anyone gets me killed, it'll be me. Trust me, I'm in this gig of my own will. PLEASE don't  
  
worry, grandma." He sat down on the bed beside her and took her thin, weathered hands.  
  
"Terry, I don't want to lose you too, to his private war."  
  
"Too?"  
  
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it. All it does is upset me. I've already told you what I thought."  
  
"And I can't do it, Grandma." He put his arms around her and gave her a tight squeeze. When had he gotten bigger than her?  
  
One hand wrapped around his arm. "I love you," she said simply. "I'll get you out of that suit one way or another." Her voice was icy with resolve. He wondered what she could possibly have in store.  
  
... Continued in Chapter Two 


	3. Haunted Pasts

See Epilogue for required info. Hope you all enjoy!!! Char and Tammy :-)  
  
  
  
Chapter Two: Haunted Pasts  
  
* * *  
  
That night, Terry took his time suiting up in the cave. Bruce attempted to ignore him. He sat at the huge computer, working on the details of tonight's tasks.  
  
"So, uh, what's the deal with my grandmother," he asked finally.  
  
Bruce didn't even pause or flinch. He just continued on with what he had been doing, transferring files into the Car's computers.  
  
"Come on--you know her, she knows you--she knows about the intimate details of my after school job…" Not even THAT made him acknowledge that Terry was talking. Terry decided it was time for a new tactic to get him riled up and spilling the beans. "So--what'd you do, like love her and leave her?"  
  
"There is a warehouse on Adams that is getting a shipment--"  
  
"Duh, hello? Bruce! My grandmother knows I'm Batman, and she's not really happy, and she said she's gonna get me out of the suit one way or another because she's REALLY pissed off at you about something. Feel like ponying up with me?" This was getting really frustrating.  
  
"Terrance, don't interrupt me. Is getting a shipment of components used in the manufacture of nano-technology. Commissioner Bertinelli is expecting trouble. I want you to be there."  
  
Terry pulled the mask over his face. "Yeah, sure, right. I'm on it, boss." Terry knew he wasn't getting anywhere tonight. Not with Bruce anyways.  
  
* * *  
  
Three hours, six fights, two sprays of gunfire and a sharp concussion later, Batman wearily let himself in through Max's bedroom window. "Max," he whispered in his best Bat-voice. "Hey, wake up."  
  
Max groaned. He hated waking her up. He cherished his own sleep too much to lightly stand for interfering with others. "Go away, Ter."  
  
Behind the mask, Terry rolled his eyes and grabbed her shoulder. "Max… if you help me, there'll be a shiny glazed doughnut in it for you."  
  
She sat up and stared at him discriminately. "If you think doughnuts are a girl's best friend, you got another thing coming to you. What's up?"  
  
"Need some help digging up info on my family."  
  
"The family tree stuff was like LAST semester, Terry. 'Sides. The old guy's computer's gotta be better for that than mine." She hugged her pillow to her, then rolled over, closing her eyes.  
  
Batman didn't leave. "I'm serious. And I can't do this in the Cave. There's some kind of weird thing between my grandmother and Mr. Wayne. She's all weird about it, she KNOWS, and Bruce ignores me like I'm not even talking. I HAVE to know what's going on. She's threatening to pull me out of the suit, by any means possible. And you didn't see the look in her eyes."  
  
Max threw off the covers and got up, grabbing the laptop out of her opened book bag and putting it on her desk. "And I thought MY family was a soap opera."  
  
"It's beyond soap opera. It's realm of the weird."  
  
He stared over her shoulder as she began searching for leads in the dark recesses of the first decade of the century. They looked his grandmother up by the name they knew her by-Ann Marie Price. What a nice, common name she had, Terry realized suddenly.  
  
Max found her records from this century on. That meant, from her mid- twenties until now, Ann Price existed. Before that? Nothing.  
  
"Ok," Terry said, getting an idea. "Lets do this. Lets search on Bruce Wayne and his acquaintances, from this date back." He pointed to the date on the screen that  
  
they'd established was the first known trace of his grandmother under the name he knew her by now.  
  
"You're getting good at this. What do you need ME for?"  
  
"Moral support?" he asked lamely.  
  
Max stopped typing after a minute, frustrated. "Do you know how MANY instances of Bruce Wayne there are in press archives? DETAILS, Terry."  
  
"Look for the name Barbara. That's what he called her when he first saw her." He felt so close, yet so far away from the answer. "And something about a funeral."  
  
She wasn't completely pacified, but Max went back to typing. "Well, that helped. Take a look at this."  
  
He leaned over her, his chest practically against her back. The article certainly did fit the bill. "Double funeral for a Timothy Drake and a Richard-Dick Grayson." His memory trailed back to the DG sown into a tuxedo jacket he'd borrowed once. "'Adopted sons of Bruce Wayne'?" Creepy.  
  
"Ok, that's the funeral she left town after. Now we have to find out where she fits in."  
  
"That's easy." She clicked on another headline from a few days later.  
  
He put his arm on the edge of the desk, as if getting closer to the monitor would help him cope better. Terry read it out loud, trying to get a grasp on his grandmother's real history. ""Daughter of Commissioner James Gordon Missing. Gordon Hopefully Optimistic.'"  
  
"Apparently, she and Grayson were an item." Max pointed to another article, and then scrolled through it quickly. Her gaze went from the screen to her hand on the mouse, then to Terry's hand, which sat next to hers on the desk. She followed his arm up to his chest, which was about two inches from her head. "Personal space, boy-o."  
  
Terry stood up, put his hands on his hips and shook his head. "He had kids? And they're like… dead? And that Dick guy was--"  
  
"Don't mean to interrupt your revelation here, but tell me something. What's your mom's birth year?"  
  
Terry smacked himself upside the cowl. "Mom's that Grayson guy's kid. THAT is why she left town. He died and she was pregnant with my mom. So why's she so bitter?"  
  
Max turned around in her chair to look at him. "Terry… that year is also the last time Robin, Nightwing AND Batgirl were reported seen."  
  
"Oh crap."  
  
* * *  
  
When Terry came back in his own window, his grandmother was sitting on the bed, waiting for him. "I didn't think it would take you THIS long to figure it out. Either you're lazy, or he's not training them like he used to."  
  
Terry frowned, pulling the mask off of his face. "You sound like HIM."  
  
"Don't EVER say that."  
  
"What's your beef anyway?" Ever so slowly, he pulled the top off of his sore torso, then began searching for a half-clean t-shirt.  
  
"HE is the reason your grandfather is dead."  
  
"HOW?" Terry refused to believe it. Wayne was overly methodical, but he wasn't a killer and wouldn't endanger his own kids.  
  
The door opened. "Terry, you leave your grandmother alone." Busted by mom.  
  
"I want the rest of the story," Terry said cheerfully. "Sorry for bugging you tonight for it." He could play this double-meaning game too, he decided. He rose from the bed beside her and followed his mother out the door. "She was up, I swear," he muttered when his mother closed the door and glared at him.  
  
"I'm not sure what game you are all playing, but it's not very funny."  
  
"TRUST me, mom. I don't think it's very funny either."  
  
* * *  
  
"Total freak job," Terry informed Max as he closed his locker.  
  
"You're taking it personally," Max said objectively.  
  
Terry wearily leaned against his locker. He was used to being tired. He wasn't used to being emotionally exhausted. "She accused him of killing my grandfather. I mean, I'm not supposed to get personal over that? And the freaky weirdness of it is that makes HIM my great-grandfather."  
  
"Ok. Yeah, that is weird. But what can you do, if neither of them are willing to talk about it, and neither of them are interested in working it out?" Max clutched her books to her chest protectively. She hated going into these 'family' things. Living alone-she just wasn't good at it. "Oh no," she said, seeing that look in his eye. "I'm done. Your minutes ran out on my side-kicking services on this one."  
  
"Max! You're always like 'I want in' and now you're going cold on me cause it's personal? I have to find out about the case he had them working on. What got them killed. I gotta know why she's so bitter."  
  
"Ugg. Great time to get bitten by the detective bug."  
  
The bell rang. As usual, Terry was late.  
  
* * *  
  
"What the hell am I doing here again?" Terry asked himself out loud. "Oh yeah, spying on my employer who can probably kick my ass into the next century."  
  
Terry silently moved through the hall toward Wayne Manor's master bedroom. He knew where it was. But he had never been inside. The closest he had ever come was when He helped Bruce to the door one night after things had been a little rough with Inque. "Okay, okay, McGinnis, Inque kicked your ass and the old man came in and saved you. But it took a lot outta him. Wearing that armour-plated Batsuit." He laughed, "She asked if you were my grandfather. Who knew?"  
  
Trying the door, Terry found it was locked. Undeterred, he pulled out a lock pick and jimmied the lock. The door opened easily. Too easy to have been the old man's. Shouldn't there have been blaring alarms, red lights, trap doors or something? Entering the large room, he looked around. Terry didn't know where to begin, didn't know what he was looking for. But he knew he had to find it, whatever it was.  
  
"This is creepy," he said as he opened a dresser drawer before quickly slamming it back. Good thing Bruce was at his doctor's appointment. It gave Terry some time to do the detective thing. "Does one guy need all that room?" he thought as he moved toward the largest bed he'd ever seen. A framed photograph on the nightstand caught his eye.  
  
He moved over and lifted it. The man in the middle was obviously the old guy -- but when he was a LOT younger. The piercing blue eyes, the stubborn unyielding  
  
chin, and the half-smile were the same. The young kid had to be that Tim guy Terry and Max had read about. He didn't look more than fourteen -- fifteen max—in this photo. Terry's eyes then fell on the third person in the photograph. That had to be Dick Grayson. "My grandfather."  
  
Grandma Ann -- or is it Barbara -- never talked about him, not even with Terry's mother. And they had never seen his picture before. Terry sat on the side of  
  
Bruce's bed and stared at the features of the young man in the photograph. His hair was so black and his eyes so blue. Terry could see a resemblance. He always  
  
wondered where his hair and eyes came from -- his mom and Grandma being redheads with green eyes and his Dad's family all had brown hair and hazel eyes.  
  
Guess the Grayson gene was showing up in him. His grandfather had a great smile. It was infectious.  
  
"Who were you? What were you like?" Terry asked pensively, moving from talking to himself to talking to the man in the picture.  
  
The chiming clock drew Terry out of the musings he was beginning. Bruce would be getting home soon. "And if I'm still here, I'm dead." Putting the frame back on the nightstand, he quickly looked around the room. In the huge walk-in closet, he found albums -- photograph albums full of pictures and newspaper articles. Who knew Wayne had a sentimental streak. Maybe he was human after all? Terry found one that included the articles he and Max had found on the computer. And articles predating the funeral one. The death announcement -- took up the front page of the old Gotham Gazette. The words stung Terry, although he didn't know why. "Billionaire Boys Crash & Burn: Alcohol Suspected."  
  
Reading the article, it was clear that the authorities thought his grandfather had been drinking and driving and crashed a really expensive sports car on the winding road leading from the manor to the city. Terry never knew Dick Grayson, never heard anyone talk about him, but Dick Grayson was Nightwing. He knew that. And he knew he wouldn't drink and drive. He had died fighting in the night -- doing what they do. And this was how Bruce had protected the family secret. It was – it seemed -- wrong.  
  
Taking the album with him, he snuck out of the room, relocking the door behind him. Terry moved down the hall, opening the second door to the right. This had been the room Bruce went into to get the tuxedo he let Terry borrow. The one with the initials "D.G." Terry hadn't been allowed to enter the room. He changed in an upstairs bathroom. What secrets did the room hold?  
  
Opening the door, he noticed the circus posters on the wall. Framed photographs of Bruce and a boy not even Matt's age; of his grandparents -- he knew it was them -- no one had to tell him. Looking around the room, he saw leather bound book in a chair by the window. Terry picked it up and thumbed through it. The handwriting didn't seem like what he would have thought his grandfather's handwriting would be. It was -- neat.  
  
Sitting in the chair, he started reading.  
  
It was a journal -- Alfred Pennyworth's journal. He read through it. It seemed as if this journal was something this Alfred guy kept -- probably one for each year. This one covered the year Grayson and Drake died -- 2002. He flipped up until he found the dates surrounding the day his grandfather died.  
  
The hand that wrote the entry on that day was uneven and shaky—which didn't seem like that guy at all.  
  
The day I've feared for these many years has arrived. And the tragedy is compounded, for rather than losing one of my charges, I have lost two. My hand shakes as I write this, but I know I must continue. Master Dick and Master Tim are dead, and I fear that Master Bruce shall be swallowed by his grief.  
  
Master Bruce called me when he found the bodies. His voice shook as he gave me the terrible news and the instructions that I need to follow. Had I not known him all his life, I would not have detected the emotion in his voice. But it was there. And the sound of it broke my heart as much as the words he said. I'll never forget his words -- "Nightwing and Robin are down. They -- their -- dead." Then he gave me my instructions and he said "They were together." And his communication ended.  
  
Terry's own eyes misted. He knew what had happened. His grandfather had gone up against something more horrible than Terry had EVER faced as Batman—and he'd not come back. It was a few moments before he could continue reading, and even then, for the sake of his own emotions, he had to temporarily abandon entire passages.  
  
Master Bruce gently moved Master Dick and Master Tim's bodies from the plane and onto beds in the medical wing of the cave. Silently he stood between them. I hated to speak -- to interrupt his time with them -- but it had to be done. I told him that I had Master Dick's Jaguar XK Coupe loaded onto the wrecker and was prepared to create the accident scene. I asked if he wanted me to change them into their street clothes. His reply, as with everything with Bruce, was concise. But the meaning and the pain spoke volumes -- "No. That's my responsibility. They're my ... mine."  
  
Bruce would never speak that again. He holds his heart close -- closed would be more accurate. Very few people could enter it. Tonight he lost them both. How he will endure, I have no idea ....  
  
Quickly, Terry turned the page. His grandmother couldn't possibly still think—who knew what she thought? Or why? There had to be some reason why she hated him so much—something that had happened.  
  
He glanced through two pages of hastily scrawled text; past the account of making funeral arrangements and an intricate portrait of the foods he'd prepared—all things the boys had liked—and the loving care he'd taken in doing the last thing he could possibly do for the two boys that had been his grandsons. Meanwhile, Bruce had done what Bruce does; he withdrew into himself.  
  
Just when he thought he wasn't going to get any real answers, mixed within the old man's grief, he found an answer that sickened him. It hurt him that two people he cared about could do such a thing to each other.  
  
The funeral for Masters Dick and Tim was held this morning. Stoically, Master Bruce withstood it. It surprises me how he manages to go on, to survive. His pain is private -- bottled deep within him. I fear it will never surface, and that will be his undoing.  
  
Miss Barbara stayed after the funeral. After the other mourners had left. Stayed and followed Master Bruce into the cave. That was when it became -- unpleasant. They argued. No, arguing isn't the proper term. They vented their anger at each other, their rage over the young masters' death exploding. Miss Barbara blamed Master Bruce for sending them after the Joker alone! Master Bruce blamed Miss Barbara for not going with them! She screamed at him. He coldly and quietly fumed at her.  
  
Miss Barbara was very hurt and very angry when she left. I followed her to Master Dick's room. She gathered a few items, items I knew Master Dick would want her to have. Master Dick would have wanted her to have everything. I remember her face when she looked at me -- such utter pain and despair and hopelessness. It was more than a death she suffered, her entire world had ended. Looking me in the eye, she simply said "Good-bye Alfred," and walked out of his room and out of the Manor -- for what I fear was forever. ...  
  
With all the speed he could muster, Terry scanned the next four pages, coming to an entry two days after the funeral. It explained more than Terry ever wanted to know. Was there anything at all he could do to fix this situation that had ravaged out of control for nearly forty years?  
  
Reports of Miss Barbara's disappearance filled the Gotham Gazette this afternoon. Master Bruce has combed the city searching for her to no avail. His report to me tonight was that, in his opinion Miss Barbara had left and was purposefully hiding her whereabouts from all of us. He stated he intended to continue the search. Commissioner Gordon feared that she had done more than that. Feared she had joined Dick. I pray that Master Bruce is right. ...  
  
  
  
"McGinnis! What are you doing in here? Get out!" Wayne's voice boomed at the door. Terry dropped the journal and stood looking at the original Batman. Oh yeah, he looked old and leaned against the cane. He was sneaky. He liked to lull you into a false sense of security before beating the crap outta you. BUT he was the Original Batman, the FEAR the bad guys of Gotham still had. Terry stood and stared into the old pair of blue eyes. His own boring into the older man. He wasn't scared, he was Batman now.  
  
"It's my family too. I have a right--"  
  
Terry stopped mid-sentence when the old man lifted his cane. The old guy wouldn't hit him? Would he?  
  
The cane came smashing down upon the nightstand, then pushed everything from it. A lamp, two journals, a clock and a small decorative bowl smashed onto the ground "Get. Out."  
  
Instinct told Terry to do what the old man wanted. He was pissed. "No," Terry said calmly. "Cause if I leave, you're just going to shut EVERYONE out again."  
  
Bruce's hand fell heavily on the nightstand and he tossed across the room, barely missing Terry. It was of good construction, but could not withstand the abuse it had been issued. Hitting the wall on the opposing side of the room, it shattered.  
  
"Feel better?" Terry asked angrily.  
  
"You have NO idea how I feel," the old man ground out. "How dare you—I told you these rooms are off-limits. How DARE you touch his things? THEIR things."  
  
"WHY?" Terry spat out. It's not like YOU touch them!"  
  
More objects went flying across the room—so fast that Terry had no idea what they were.  
  
"IS that why you keep everything like this? So you can come in here and pretend like they're not gone? Like nothing's happened?" Terry regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth, but he couldn't take it back. All of his life, he'd been acting, then thinking. That was what had gotten him the job of Batman.  
  
Bruce stepped close to him. An inch away from his face, in fact. The old man's face was gray, but his eyes were fiery. His jaw was set fury. "Get. OUT." Roughly, he grabbed Terry by the arm and thrust him towards the door. "And don't bother coming back."  
  
  
  
….Continued in part three 


	4. Today and Tonight

Chapter 3: Today and Tonight  
  
In his bedroom, Terry stared at his reflection in the mirror of his darkened room. The only light came from the computer on his desk. He wasn't even sure he recognized himself right now. Every time he looked at his own image, all he saw was the old man, or his grandfather.  
  
"I just need you to keep an eye on things tonight," he said to the computer.  
  
"Ter," Max said, trying to be understanding, "I have one lap top, one desk unit and an out-of date server. That is NOT the computer in the Bat-cave. I can't monitor the way he can."  
  
Reaching out, Terry touched the image of the Bat across his reflection's chest. They weren't just pulled into this situation by circumstance, tragedy or pain; they were bound to this symbol by blood-all of them. And the two people who should understand the most didn't understand.  
  
"Hello? Earth to Terry!" She couldn't see him since he was away from the monitor, but she was getting worried. Max knew she wasn't very good at dealing with 'family' stuff herself, and Terry had just been handed 'work stuff that's really family stuff.' Still, if she couldn't get his head in the game, get him to see reason just a little, he was going to get killed. "Terry!"  
  
"I'm fine, Max," he said, no emotion in his voice. "Just do your best. Watch my back."  
  
"You know how I think I'd be more effective at watching your back."  
  
"We'll talk about it," Terry answered absently. What 'we'll talk about it' really meant wasÂ  'no.' Staring into his own blue eye, he picked up the mask. They looked just like the blue eyes in that picture. He walked to the computer. "Just do your job," he told her in a voice that regretfully sounded like the old man's.  
  
But-he had work to do. Commissioner BertinelliÂ  had been right about there being trouble last night. The components were in order, but somehow a shipment of stasis-bound Nanos had been relieved from the manufacturering company. Bruce would have had leads for him by now. He might have even come up with something on his own. This? thing with his family was becoming too consuming.  
  
"We'll settle up when this is over," he informed Max. Terry knew he owed her. "Till then, keep an eye out." That being said, he shut off the computer.  
  
Going back to the mirror, he glanced at the past and present. God alone knew what tomorrow would bring.  
  
Without hesitation, he put on the mask. He had things to do.  
  
"You are NOT going out there."  
  
He'd felt the door open, but he knew it was his grandmother, so he hadn't made a move to hide or excuse himself. They all had to take the hint sometime. "I am," he said firmly. He turned around to face her.  
  
"And I told you I would do everything in my power to stop you from making the same mistake THEY did. Even if I have to tell your mother."  
  
Terry betrayed nothing at the prospect. "You do what you have to do." He began checking the contents of his belt.  
  
"Or the authorities."  
  
Tugging on his glove, he looked up at her. "Then all you're going to do is lose Terry, Grandma. Because I'm not going to stop being Batman." Did that really come out of his mouth?  
  
Still, he knew that's what he'd do, if he had to. He'd decided that a long time ago, if certain things ever came to light. He was bound to the Bat, and he wouldn't let it go so easily. He also had one other card up his sleeve-he knew his grandmother would NEVER do it.  
  
She glared at him with all the sadness and hurt her old face could hold. "Terry, I can't believe you'd do this. I want you to reconsider -- "  
  
"Grandma, I think YOU should reconsider," he told her with authority. "The old guy can be cold. He's also got some anger-management issues, but he LOVED Nightwing and Robin. It DID hurt him when they died."  
  
"Then it didn't hurt him ENOUGH," she said bitterly.  
  
Terry sighed and turned towards his window. "TALK to him," Terry replied with frustration. "All you're doing is making yourself as angry and closed off as he is." Opening the window, Terry looked back to his grandmother. "And I guess that makes the thing you hate most," he said with a smile behind the mask, "HIM."  
  
Without waiting for a response, he ignited the rocket boosters in the heals of the suit, and took off.  
  
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  *Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  *Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  *  
  
The light of mid-afternoon blazed brightly with the sun-set, then emitted the cold blue rays of twilight. All through the course of the sun changing position in the sky, a single figure sat alone on the floor in an upper room of Wayne Manor.  
  
Bruce Wayne held a picture in his hands, staring at the two boys who had been such a part of his life, then one day gone. His stiff, arthritis- ridden fingers traced the crack in the glass that had formed after he'd pushed the contents of the night stand to the floor.  
  
In the picture, Dick Grayson laughed proudly as he held Tim Drake against his will.  
  
He remembered that day. Dick had spent the entire Saturday at the Manor, bothering Alfred and annoying Tim. He'd even spent some time making fun of Bruce's latest date, Veronica Vreeland's second cousin Mindy Spatz.  
  
Continuing to go through papers from work, Bruce smiled and listened to Dick go on and on about how anyone with the last name of Spatz should have the decency to change it, and spare Former Boy Wonders the necessity of coming up with horrible nicknames for them. He had said that he didn't care WHAT good family the woman had come from, she was a ditz, and probably Bruce's worst girl friend in recent history.  
  
"You think that's bad!" Tim answered sarcastically as he entered the study. "She has a niece named MUFFY." The boy jumped onto the arm of the sofa nearest the door, then flew at Dick.  
  
Easily enough, Dick disabled the young man and had him pinned to the ground. "Timmy and Muffy, sitting in a tree?"  
  
There'd been a lot of laughing, yelling and name calling before the afternoon was out. Dick had pinned Tim to the floor forty-two times when Bruce stopped counting. They'd scuffed the floor irreparably near the study door, and Tim had gotten two ice cubes stuffed into his jeans.  
  
Bruce and Alfred had both scolded them relentlessly for being wreckless in the house, but neither had the heart to stop their playful war.  
  
Just before dinner, he'd found the two rolling in the cold green grass of early spring, and Dick was eliciting a confession out of Tim. Apparently the boy had thought that his science teacher was 'the prettiest thing on God's green earth.'  
  
Durring dinner, Tim handcuffed Dick to a hundred year old chair and wouldn't give his brother the key until Dick admitted that he and Batgirl were seeing each other seriously. He'd told the boy that if he put the key in his mouth and swallowed it, and Dick was forced to damage the chair, Tim would be grounded for the rest of his natural life.  
  
Laughing, Tim had put the key on his tongue and danced around, until Alfred hadÂ  grabbed the boy's shoulder and forced him to stop.  
  
It had been one of Bruce's best days to that date. It was, perhaps, one of his best days ever. He'd certainly not had a day since to rival it.  
  
The cold, unheated room had gone from dusk to the darkness of night mixed with the distant glow of city lights. In the darkness, he could no longer see their faces, but he remembered them. They were burned into his mind.  
  
It was ironic to him that he would live so long, and that they wouldÂ  live so little. In the years following, he'd done practically everything within his power to hasten his demise and yet he'd not yet met up with all those he'd lost. Clark was right. He WOULD outlive them all. Just because living was such Hell.  
  
His fingers continued to run along the crack in the glass, and he wondered what he had wrought, why he had continued with all of this. His life was a sad tale of too little, too late. First with his parents, then with his boys.  
  
Staring out the window, he could almost hear their voices? laughing, tormenting each other ceaselessly.  
  
"Circus-boy has a girlfriend!" Tim's voice echoed in his mind, much the way it had reverberated years ago within these cold, stony walls.  
  
The sound of stocking feet gliding across hardwood floors. "You're never too big to beat up!" Dick had snatched him up and hauled him to the sofa. Alfred had urged them not to break the furnature. Bruce had simply supposed he'd have to buy another couch for this room. Again.  
  
"Bruce! He's squishing me!"  
  
"The runt just can't take it that she likes me and not him!"  
  
"I'm thinking black leather, next time," Bruce said mildly to Alfred.  
  
There'd been a rumble, Timothy's screech, then a crack as the coffee table gave under their collective weight and the considerable force with which they'd landed upon it.  
  
"Babs is too much woman for ya, Timmy!"  
  
At the memory of them laying on the broken wood, Bruce let out a sob- strangled laugh. His eyes clenched closed against the memories and the tears.  
  
Damn her. Damn Barbara.  
  
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  *Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  *Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  *  
  
In the quiet of her small, empty apartment, Maxine Gibbons cursed. This had been the night from hell.  
  
Max tried to raise Terry again. Her fingers slammed on the keys with tired frustration. She couldn't find a back way into the suit's communication's systems. Either the old guy was just that damned good, or there was no suit to make a connection with.  
  
There'd been gunfire and an explosion, then silence. She'd been trying for seven -- eight minutes to contact him. She'd lost Terry's location ten minutes before the audio went dead.  
  
The old man wasn't answering his phones. No one was online to help her or Terry.  
  
Angry, she slammed her fist down on the coffee table where she was working. If the old man wasn't going to help, it was up to her.  
  
Â   
  
Continued in part 4  
  
Â  


	5. Down to the Wire

Hi kids! Hope you enjoy our little romp with the Batman Beyond universe, and that we're messing with continuity in a GOOD way. ---Char and Tammy  
  
Dc: Continuity? We don't need no stinkin' continuity!  
  
Required info in part 1  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Down to the Wire  
  
**  
  
Barbara opened her grandson's bedroom door yet again. The room was still dark and cold and empty. Why couldn't the boy just understand what she was trying to protect him from.  
  
Did she expect him to understand? Dick hadn't understood. It had gotten him killed, but he'd never understood.  
  
Looking back behind her, she saw the warm inviting glow of the living room situated at the end of the hall. With sadness mixed with disgust, she crossed the threshold into the boy's room and closed the door behind her.  
  
The computer on his desk was off now, which left the room in total darkness, save for what was emitted through the single window on the far side of the room.  
  
She sat on the bed, staring out into the night. It wasn't worth it. Not the danger, not the things the boy would go through. But the night was tempting. She remembered that.  
  
The sky line burned red at night now, but back when she was his age, it glowed lightening purple and electric blue. The wind was full of energy and seemed to possess a life of it's own as it carried them from roof top to roof top. They'd fought hard, and for herself and Dick, they'd loved even harder.  
  
Where the hell was that boy? Why didn't he understand that the night killed?  
  
The clouds in the sky caught the city lights and it shined a wine color. It was deadly, but it was beautiful as well. It was entrancing, even. Sitting there, it was so easy to remember...  
  
The day she told him she was pregnant. It was a beautiful spring day in Gotham. The birds were singing, the sun was shining and she was more nervous than the first time she tried a freefall from a skyscraper.  
  
She'd only known for a day. She should have told him sooner, but Barbara was looking for the right words, the right time, the right place... Everything had to be perfect.  
  
Then he'd dragged her out of a sound-sleep on her day off from work. He'd come in through her window, then had jumped on her bed--just because he could. She decided that he deserved whatever he had coming. So she invited him out for an afternoon of grass and nature and all that stuff you never got enough of on the rooftops.  
  
They were in Robinson Park; they had been having a picnic and were playing Frisbee. Frisbee. He tossed the blue round object at her. It sailed through the air. Jumping, she caught it easily. Then she looked at him standing there, his hands on his hips. He always did look adorable when he was giving her a hard time.  
  
"Well, are you gonna throw that back or just stand there all day holding it, Red?"  
  
She twisted her mouth; this was going to be good. With her best scowl, he tossed the Frisbee at him angrily. "Take it! Oh yeah, and by the way, Grayson -- "  
  
"Yeah Gordon?" he replied as he caught the Frisbee and tossed it back at her from behind his back.  
  
"You knocked me up." Barbara grabbed the Frisbee and stood there waiting for his reaction. They were in public. Public was good.  
  
Dick's mouth dropped. "I ... You're ... " a big grin formed on his face. "We ... we're having a baby." Dick started laughing as he ran to Barbara. Picking her up, he spun her around in the air. "We're having a baby Babs."  
  
She looked down at him, his smile was infectious, but she wanted to try and keep a straight face. "Oh get a hold of yourself. You'd better start running, I haven't told Daddy yet."  
  
Dick spun her around again until she was giggling loudly. Then he gently sat her back on the ground. "Okay, let's run." He grabbed her by the hand and started running toward the bus stop. "Guess where we're going?"  
  
She briefly wondered if someone acting like a kid in a candy store was ready to be a father.  
  
"Where?" she asked in mock exasperation. "We are NOT running to Daddy-bats with this!! NOT right now! DICK! What are you planning?"  
  
"No, we're not going to Bruce. We're going to the courthouse. We're getting married." Dick stopped long enough to kiss her on the nose, "Come on!"  
  
Barbara laughed aloud. She couldn't believe she was letting him do this! They hadn't really talked about it since they'd started seeing each other again, but she knew she wanted it. Still--this was too quick! There were too many technicalities... "MARRIED? Dick! Dick, my dad doesn't even KNOW we're dating again. And Alfred'll be mad we didn't let him plan ... oh what the hell. They can have their big wedding later."  
  
He sat down on the cement bench under the blue bus stop sign, then pulled her right into his lap. He certainly wasn't shy about things, and it was one of the things Barbara loved about him. "Exactly! This is OUR day Babs. We're doing it our way. And wait'll you see what I have in mind for our reception," he said with a wink. "Besides, once we're married, your dad can't do anything about it - uh except kill me. And that's what it'll take to get me away from you." He kissed her forcefully, then rubbed her belly playfully. "Hello little person in there! Guess what? You get to come to mommy and daddy's wedding!"  
  
They sat there at the bus stop laughing and enjoying just being with each other. Other people standing around and walking by smiled at them as the downtown bus started pulling up.  
  
He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a squeeze.  
  
Barbara couldn't resist it. She rolled her eyes in mock-disgust. "Oh Grayson, you're SUCH a mush-ball."  
  
"About you I am," Dick replied with a kiss. Then he bent to her stomach, "And about you too little guy." He practically dragged her up the steps of the bus.  
  
"What makes you think it's a boy?" she asked as he pulled enough change out of his pocket for both of them. Wasn't that romantic.  
  
"All juniors are boys," he said with that smile of his. He dropped the coins into the change machine, then dragged her to the midsection of the bus and pulled her into a fuzzy blue two-seater bench.  
  
Barbara smiled back. "Bruce is going to have an aneurysm. We're taking public transportation to our wedding." She had to admit, she enjoyed the idea of ticking him off... just a little. Everyone needed to be taken down a few pegs now and again. But she knew he'd come around. Assuming, of course, that the aneurysm didn't kill him.  
  
"What can I say Babs. You can take the boy outta the travel trailer but you can't take the travel trailer outta the boy."  
  
She bit her tongue before saying he must be a big boy to be able to fit a while travel trailer in there.  
  
The bus stopped in front of courthouse. He took her hand as he helped her down from the bus. Laughing, they ran up the steps hand in hand. It was an adventure just finding their way around the courthouse. They had to get a marriage license, and then they had to find a judge that was still there late on a Friday afternoon. Then, when that was accomplished, they found out that they weren't the only people waiting to see the judge.  
  
Barbara sat down as Dick checked in with the judge's secretary. Turning around, he flashed a smile at her, before turning back and signing some more forms the secretary gave him. Dick strolled over to Babs and sat down beside her taking her hand in his.  
  
Barbara giggled. "What a way to spend a Friday!" Personal days were great things. She'd scheduled this one even before she'd found out she'd be spending the day telling her special someone something special.  
  
"Nothing was on TV, Figured this would be a good substitute."  
  
She rolled her eyes at him. "Do you know how many people're going to kill us?"  
  
Dick started holding up his fingers one at a time. "Four?"  
  
"Six! At least." He'd probably forgotten Superman and Tim.  
  
"I can't WAIT to tell Bruce. He didn't control this one," Dick added with a wide grin.  
  
Barbara looked at the judge's office door. She was getting anxious waiting around. "Should we tell them all at once, or one at a time?"  
  
Dick bounced in his seat anxiously. "Oh, lets tell Timmy first! He'll wet himself!"  
  
"Dick, we should be nice about it. I think he kind of has a crush on me," she said with concern.  
  
"OH he does!!!!" Dick said with glee.  
  
"Aww ... let him down easy. He's going to be an uncle!"  
  
"Wait ... if he's an uncle, that makes Bruce," Dick erupted in laughter, "a GRANDFATHER!" Dick fell out of chair laughing. People in the office stared at him, but neither of them cared. "Oh my God. We are so dead. He'll kill us. Grandfather implies he's OLD."  
  
Barbara bursts out laughing as well. "He's old! BATMAN'S OLD!" People stared at both of them. In a coughing fit, Barbara added, "Just kidding! Dick, just think how cute he'll be, with our little tyke bouncing on his knee!"  
  
Dick laughed louder. "Uh huh -- oh that's a picture I wanna see."  
  
Barbara was getting so excited talking about their little tyke. "We'll get a Polaroid and keep it with us all the time. Then every time we catch Bruce doing something cute with the baby, we'll take a picture."  
  
Then she'd post them on the internet. Then she'd e-mail him the URL. Then she'd take a picture of the face he made when he saw it... it was a vicious cycle she would enjoy playing out over and over.  
  
The judge's secretary walked out of his office. She was a short, overweight woman who looked like she'd escaped the Umpa-Lumpa farm. "Mr. Grayson, Ms. Gordon, the judge will see you now."  
  
Barbara giggled. "HERE WE GO!" For the first time since she'd told him, she grabbed his hands and pulled him along.  
  
"Yep. Hey Babs," he said as he stopped them both a foot from the door. "I love you!"  
  
Jumping up, she stole a kiss. Life was so perfect already, and it was only going to get more perfect--shocked parents and disgruntled little brothers aside. "And I love you, FBW. Let's go!"  
  
* * *  
  
It was dark, and Terry was cold. Those were the only two certainties in his universe. He did not know if he was injured, dead, or what.  
  
What was the last thing he remembered? He remembered the fight starting at the warehouse on Monarch. He remembered it carrying over onto Adams, and across half a dozen roof tops.  
  
He remembered diving away from his attackers, towards the van carrying the Nanos, but he missed somehow. Thinking was so hard now. It was dark, and he was cold. The only two things he knew.  
  
There'd been a bolt of energy from behind him. He remembered. He remembered thinking that the Old Man would have been on it, would have had the positions of all of his opponents. It wasn't Max's fault. She was limited in what she could do.  
  
The bolt had hit him with paralyzing force, had arched yellow-white around him. He'd seen red at that moment, then he'd plunged downward.  
  
He'd reached for the control for the rockets in his boots, but his hand would not work. The ground approached, fifty feet, thirty feet...  
  
When his hand HAD found the switch, it hadn't worked. The suit had been neutralized.  
  
He knew how to fall, but he couldn't remember now if he'd fallen in a way that would prevent injury.  
  
All he knew was that it was dark and cold.  
  
He was angry. He didn't want his grandmother to be right, about dying on the streets. Well, Fate was a funny thing. He'd been running this gig for a year, and in one day he fights with his grandmother about the job and ends up dead. A few hours, versus a year of his family living in ignorance. Perhaps it wasn't fate. Maybe he was cursed.  
  
Terry didn't know much about fate or curses. He wasn't even sure of his feelings on God any more, or the law, or any of that other stuff that folks were supposed to hold dear. He only knew two things.  
  
It was dark, and he was cold.  
  
**  
  
"Dick, you're such a FREAK! You took me to the mall." She threw a French fry at him.  
  
"It's the food court Babs," he said with his arms making a sweeping motion of his arms. "What better place for a culinary delight. What variety, what spice -- "  
  
"You spent your last sixty dollars on the judge, didn't you?" she asked flatly.  
  
"That too," he answered sheepishly. His blue eyes seemed to turn darker when he was embarrassed.  
  
She shook her head scolding. "Budgeting, Grayson. Budgeting."  
  
"Hey, that's what you're here for now."  
  
"You're a bum, Grayson. A bum without a job." She tried to ignore that bright, wide grin. It was hard.  
  
"But you still love me, and you can support me."  
  
"You're such a gigolo," she said as she grabbed one of his Chick-Fil-A nuggets and tossed it in her mouth. "I deserve a dowry from Bruce for you."  
  
"He'll probably give you a country for taking me off his hands. So, uh, are we living in your place or mine?  
  
"MINE!" she said defiantly.  
  
"My place is bigger," he added, "equipped with sliding doors to reveal our costumes..."  
  
"Bruce owns the build -- um ... never mind."  
  
"Exactly -- We'd never be evicted."  
  
Barbara sighed. "Okay, we're going to have a kid, and we're going to be the happy perfect couple, do we really want Bruce holding things over our head? Living on Daddy's land and all? Dick, I just want to be an adult and have my own life, and my own baby, and my own husband that he can't order around or just come in when he wants. Bruce is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there."  
  
Dick looked like a chipmunk with his cheeks full of food. Without chewing, he swallowed so he could talk. "Hey -- he's not that bad Babs. Really, I know he seems like it sometimes. I mean, he gives overbearing a new name, but he's going to order and he's gonna just come in even if we lived in Alaska. Sorry. He's part of my package."  
  
"Oooy," she said as she grabbed his cheeks. "Fine. I know he comes with the package. And little Timmy rooting through our refrigerator --"  
  
"Uh huh and Alfred cleaning our house -- "  
  
"Did I just say OUR refrigerator," she asked with a grin. "This is going to be so awesome, Dick, even IF Bruce owns the fridge."  
  
Dick smiled and stuck a French fry in her mouth. It was then that his communicator sounded it's familiar: BIP BIP BIP.  
  
"Oh damn," he muttered as he pulled it from his pocket and answered his communicator. "What?"  
  
Barbara rolled her eyes. "Tell him you're busy! Tell him you were abducted by aliens! Tell him you can't come because your wife wont let you come out and play!"  
  
Dick laughed at her as he listened to Bruce on the other end. "Babs said to tell you I was abduc -- Joker? You need. -- Mayor's dinner. Right. I remember. I'll go with Tim. -- No Babs can't go tonight. Tim and I will be just fine, just like ever other night."  
  
"Tell him we have to consummate the marriage," she whispered seductively in his ear.  
  
Dick closed the communicator. "Sorry babe. Look --"  
  
"I know I know I know. We gotta do what we do.. Still ... one lousy night. And HE can't go because of that stupid dinner with the mayor...  
  
"Tim and I will do a quick sweep -- see if we see if there's anything on the Joker and then I'll be back to finish this honeymoon. You go buy something from Victoria's secret and it'll get better when I get home"  
  
Dick stood up and quickly kissed her. As he started to leave, he remembered the marriage license in his pocket. "Here's the marriage license. Remind me to go file it with the clerk's office on Monday - so we're all nice and legal. I can't believe they closed early today so we couldn't file it."  
  
"Well, you'd better going, FBW. We still have a marriage to consummate."  
  
Leaning over Dick kissed Barbara passionately on the lips. His feelings for her more evident. "I love you. See ya." Dick ran out, leaving Barbara alone in the food court.  
  
She shook her head happily as she ate another French fry. "And that, little one, is your daddy. He's crazy, and he thinks the sun rises and sets under HIS daddy's feet, but I love him. And you will too."  
  
* * *  
  
Her last communication with Terry had been in this area, Max noted with a sense of urgency as she sped through the darkened streets. Turning the corner from Adams to Monarch, Max urged her vehicle just a little further, but she could feel it running out of energy.  
  
Max wasn't getting anywhere fast, she thought sadly as the battery ran out on her moped. She'd forgotten to charge it after school when she'd gotten herself involved in Terry's little festival of family madness.  
  
The moped stopped completely just off dirty, scary, smelly alley. And now she'd gone from only mildly useful to completely useless. Her sidekick potential was limitless, she thought with frustration as she hopped off the bike.  
  
At the furthest end of the alley, she saw a shadow pass out of the corner of her eye. Turning to get a better look, she squinted. She hoped it was Terry--so she could kill him for scaring her like this. It wasn't Terry. It was a gray mutt-cat, darting back and forth between heaps of garbage and overflowing steel cans that were half-rusted through.  
  
Turning back to her useless vehicle, she kicked the tire. A gasping strangled sigh escaped her as her eyes grew wet.  
  
Damn those old people.  
  
She didn't care who had died how. All she knew was that her best friend in the entire world was SOMEWHERE in this damned city, and she couldn't find him, and he was totally without support because the two people who should have given a damn the most about him were too busy fighting amongst themselves. She swore to God that if she ever got as angry and bitter as the old man, she'd just do society and her loved ones a favor and just take a long walk off a tall building and be done with it. What the hell kind of life was that?  
  
Digging into her coat pocket, she pulled out her cell phone. Calling the old man had proved useless time and again. There was one person she hadn't tried yet.  
  
She pressed number one on her speed dial and called Terry's house.  
  
Continued in Part 5 


End file.
